


alors, on danse

by pistolgrip



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mask Bleu Clair, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: Siete organizes a mock tournament with the captain of the Grandcypher to test how Six's new outfit holds up in battle. (Verdict: It holds up a bittoowell.)
Relationships: Siete | Seofon/Six | Seox (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	alors, on danse

**Author's Note:**

> love my friends' captain ocs. they're all little shitheads  
> oh my god formatting hated me for this fic. sorry if you had to see any of it

With a mission in which Six has to disguise his true identity once more, Siete takes it upon himself to create an outfit that would _properly_ conceal his status as an Eternal. He still hasn't forgotten that the _last_ time Six tried to hide his identity, he modified the Eternals' uniform. ( _Really_! He had _so many options_!) Siete shudders to think about all the things he could have made for Six instead of being so… _obvious_.  
  
Six doesn't even stop him when he brings up the idea this time, waving a hand with a muttered _do what you want_ , which Siete takes to heart. And to other body parts, he admits to himself when he sees how much skin he's planned for Six to show, but—hey, he does what he wants.

He finishes designing and sewing in record time. The first time he steps back from the mannequin, fluffing up the fur lining of the coat, he thinks to himself, _is this too much?_ before promptly deciding that no, it wasn't. _Sure_ , it got a bit away from him, but he figures this outfit his frenzied mind put together is so unlike Six to wear that no one would recognize him, therefore making this outfit successful. Anyone that knew Six would double take seeing him wear it, their doubt lasting long enough for Six to finish anything. Visually, it's too flashy for Six—but Siete has known him long enough to incorporate the way he moves and fights into each part of the design. It shouldn't hinder his movement (unless the outfit is so out of character that it makes Six hold back due to discomfort).  
  
Six makes no complaints when he puts on the the final product Siete reveals to him, although he does express concerns about attracting too much attention. (Siete refuses to comment. His attention would be drawn to Six in any situation.) He assures Six that the gaudiness lines up with the stage battles he's expected to participate in.  
  
Siete's self-aware sexual tension aside—to test how the costume would hold up in actual combat, it would have been easier to spar with Six one-on-one, but it was meant for Six to wear in public. As much as Six complained about him, a spar with Siete was hardly _public_. He was too used to his company. Siete suggested entering a mock tournament with acquaintances to ease him into wearing it around strangers, but no one was more shocked than he was when Six, with crossed arms, set jaw, and eyes glued to himself in the mirror, agreed. He tilted his chin to the side, a gloved hand tracing up the side of his neck to his high collar, and Siete just… _watched_ him.  
  
He didn't think that far. He was expecting more resistance. It was just his luck that the Grandcypher was looking for something exciting to do too pass the time; Gran was suspicious at first, but he gave in to the request when Siete told him his plans.  
  
No, _give in_ wasn't the right word. Gran's amusement came from something that wasn't the prospect of a fun day with his crew members, one disguised Eternal, and another commentating the tournament beside him. Siete felt cold sweat bead against his neck at the knowing look Gran shot him, but he didn't say anything more, and together, the two of them planned a mock tournament with other melee fighters from the Grandcypher, held sign-ups, and decided brackets at random outside of Six's match.  
  
When they finished preparations, Siete told Six a time and date, told him that he and his opponent were the final duo, and otherwise let him show up whenever he felt like it. He trusted that Six would find the most dramatic time and place to make an entrance without Siete's direction.

* * *

When the day arrives, Siete sits in the makeshift announcer's booth on the deck of the Grandcypher with Gran, Lyria, and Vyrn, waiting for the melee fighters to prepare, for their friends to gather. Six isn't there yet, but he didn't expect him to be there before necessary.  
  
Planning the tournament made him invested in seeing the other matches play out, and he and Gran talk over the mic about the fighters participating. Not everyone made a stage name for themselves, but those that did—or even those that made costumes for it—make a show of the day, and the mock tournament gathers more of the crew's attention than they planned for.  
  
Siete almost forgets what he's there for, so absorbed in everyone's energy and the winding tales of their backstories, that the same hush falls over him as it does the crowd when the final match begins.  
  
The two figures step up to each other before he or Gran can announce it. Orchid waves at her opponent, unafraid. She must recognize who he is, ignoring the flurry of confusion among the crowd and other participants. Gran nudges Siete, covering the mic, and his next words have the same feeling as his knowing looks from two weeks ago, when they first planned this tournament. " _That_ was the outfit you made?"  
  
"Is that... Six? He looks cool," Lyria says, chin in hands and blinking. She looks down to the sheet. "His name isn't on here, unless he's... Mask Bleu Clair?"  
  
"Really." Gran nudges Siete harder. Siete refuses to look at him. " _That_ tight little number? With _that_ name?"  
  
"I didn't make him choose a name." He can't deny that he encouraged this level of dramatics, though. He clears his throat and uncovers his own mic, effectively forcing Gran to shut up for at least the next few seconds. "For the final round, the Puppet Girl of the Grandcypher demonstrates her bravery as she faces off against the mysterious, unknown newcomer, Mask Bleu Clair!"  
  
"You weren't this excited for the other matches," Gran jabs under his breath.  
  
"I get the feeling you're laughing at me."  
  
"You have a sixth sense for that sort of thing."  
  
"Evolved as a defense mechanism," Siete says, now completely distracted.  
  
Unlike the other fights, the match-up against Orchid was deliberate. She's one of the only participants in the mock tournament that's fought beside Six regularly, and she won't say a word if she recognizes Six—which she does, judging by how Six startles before responding with something he can't hear. When side-by-side, their fighting styles are complementary; against each other, the battle would be long and drawn out, giving Six ample time to get used to the outfit. Making their battle last also means they've had time to gather an audience of both the previous fighters and the other curious members of the Grandcypher.  
  
"Tell us more about Mask Bleu Clair, Siete!" Gran's voice over the sound system jolts him out of his thoughts, and when Siete looks over, he comes face-to-face with a shit-eating grin. He makes sure Lyria and Vyrn are looking elsewhere before flipping his middle finger to him under the table.  
  
"Says here, Gran, that we don't know anything about him. Just an unknown that showed up to challenge us. Except that this description was submitted ahead of time." (Those were Six's words, not his. He left a slip of paper behind for Siete this morning.)  
  
"So he just showed up here uninvited? Poor Orchid! This is an invitation-only tournament!"  
  
"We all need a bit of excitement in our lives! Orchid looks like she gets along with him, though." He looks up to see Six, as Mask Bleu Clair, shake Lloyd's hand without hesitation before they enter their battle stances. "The outcome of this match is a total mystery! Underdog enigma versus beloved crew member! Oh, I can't wait!"  
  
Vyrn flies out to circle the two of them pair and comes back. "No matter how you look at it, that's really the Masked Wonder—"  
  
Gran puts a hand over Vyrn's mouth. "Don't worry about it, buddy."  
  
When he releases Vyrn, he flies over to the mic and holds it up. "That's some outfit though on the challenger, though, isn't it!"  
  
"Yeah, isn't it?" Gran looks at Siete, batting his eyelashes with a smirk.  
  
"It's good craftsmanship," he agrees, not knowing if he should be speaking into the mic for this. He chooses not to. "Every line was made with love and care. Although I might have gotten a little carried away with it."  
  
"'A little', he says." Gran laughs. To be specific, Gran laughs at him.  
  
He has no retort nor defense for himself. Gran's right. He got carried away with every detail. It's one thing to know how revealing the outfit was when he made it, know how it would fit against every line of muscle in Six's body. It was another thing to watch him fight in it. Every part of that outfit clings to him in a way that is imperfect on a stationary body, accentuating rather than restricting his graceful movements in battle. He isn't even wearing the coat, instead using it as a makeshift cape with the sleeves dangling behind him. It almost looks _better_ like that, against Siete's intention with the coat.  
  
Thankfully, Gran and Lyria have taken over the commentary, although Gran is making very deliberate comments about the gaudiness of the outfit whenever Mask Bleu Clair performs a special attack.  
  
The battle with Orchid barely has physical contact. Both of them dodge and shield each other's attacks indefinitely, until Mask Bleu Clair can harness enough power to double his attack against Orchid. She doesn't have enough shields or armour to withhold against his final attack, and with that, the match is decided.  
  
Mask Bleu Clair is glistening with sweat across his brow, and Siete's world goes into slow motion as he watches him wipe it off. At some point during the match, he'd discarded the jacket, and he thanks the gods for that decision, if only so he can watch Mask Bleu Clair bend over to pick it up, watch the old scars move across his exposed skin with each movement.  
  
Instead of walking off the stage with Orchid, Mask Bleu Clair walk toward the announcement booth.  
  
"Uh oh!" Gran says, barely restrained laughter in his voice. Siete feels his heart pounding in his ears. "Looks like Mask Bleu Clair wants to keep the fight going! Siete, how much melee experience you got?"  
  
"Enough to hold my own, maybe," he says, final words muffled by Mask Bleu Clair tossing his coat over Siete's head, joining him underneath.

Gran hasn't stopped commenting, recounting the matches they've gone through as his one mercy to bring the crowd's attention away from the two of them, but Siete's full attention is on Mask Bleu Clair.  
  
He looks him in the eyes of the mask, glowing red. Underneath the coat is a space just for the two of them, and Siete's eyes dart down to the fang he's exposing with his grin. He doesn't take off his mask as he says, "This outfit is too much, even for you, Siete."  
  
Siete doesn't even have a moment to quip back before Mask Bleu Clair kisses him. It's no mere peck on the lips, either; it's a promise for later things, all of which make Siete forget how to breathe.  
  
He pulls away the second that Siete reciprocates and walks away, leaving the coat on top of Siete's head. Siete pulls it off and his head turns to follow, staring at his back ( _okay_ , and his ass _and_ his legs) as he walks away, peeling off parts of the outfit that cling to him with sweat.  
  
The crowd seems louder than usual, and Siete wonders if they could all tell what happened underneath the coat. As if reading his mind, Gran laughs and says, "You're not very subtle. You look like you just got punched in the face."  
  
"That's one way to put it," he says, trying to resist the urge to touch his lips and failing, eyes darting back to look at Six's retreating form one last time.


End file.
